


Taking It Out On You

by averageclawenfangirl



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Clawen, F/M, Owen's shirtless, a bit angsty, a bit fluffy, which is always great huh?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:03:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averageclawenfangirl/pseuds/averageclawenfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a Tumblr prompt I recieved: Claire goes to see Owen at the bungalow and finds him sparring with a punchbag shirtless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking It Out On You

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help myself.  
> If you'd like to read more of my one-shots, you can find them on my Clawen masterlist on my Tumblr, amelias-obsessions :-)

Claire navigated her way up the bungalow stairs, mentally preparing herself for the last time for what she was going to say to Owen Grady - well, what she was going to say; _and_ how she’d keep her cool about it. Admitting she was in the wrong had never been one of Claire’s strong points, especially when it involved smug, errant, _gorgeous_ raptor handlers.. One she’d slept with after a disaster of a date, six months previously.

She peered inside the window; Owen’s bike was there, but he didn’t seem to be home. Claire could hear crunching sounds from the other side of the veranda; intrigued, she rounded the corner to find Owen sparring with a punching bag that he’d hung from a hook off the bungalow. He was shirtless, dressed in grey sweatpants, cloth wraps around his hands, laying punch after punch on the bag that swayed in the wind. 

Claire blinked for a moment, her throat drying slightly as she watched his biceps flex and his chest ripple. They’d called him the Alpha of the raptor pack; and she could see why. He oozed power and strength, as did she, but in an entirely separate way. Comments had been made in passing by Lowery and Zara - and they’d always been met with an icy glare - about how she and Owen could be the perfect match, the sexual tension even detected by their coworkers. _Not a chance_. They were too different. His heart ruled his actions; anyone who saw Owen with his velociraptors would know that much. She’d never been in a position where she could concede that much control.

She’d slipped out of this very building the morning after their date, full of regret and stabbed with sadness at the idea of what had happened. It was never discussed again. There was a flame between them; ignited by their underlying sexual attraction and stoked by their constant bickering. Owen had made her laugh, too, on their ill-fated evening together. The pleasant moments between them were few and far between, but Claire never stopped thinking about it. She never ceased to think about the missing piece that could complete them. 

“Mr Grady,” Claire said after a minute, clearing her throat. Owen threw her a sideways glance, ceasing his attack on the punchbag and flexing his fingers. “Here comes trouble,” he murmured, swiping a bottle of water from the floor beside him and running a hand through his hair. Claire wrinkled her nose in distaste at his greeting, but pressed on anyway. _It’ll be like ripping a band-aid._

“Mr Grady, I’ve come to.. Apologise, if you will,” she said, gripping onto the railing for support, squaring her shoulders in her dress. Owen raised his eyebrows, smirking as he leant against the wall of his home. “For what, might I ask?” He murmured, innocently enough. Claire fought the urge to grind her teeth in irritation, trying to focus her eyes anywhere other than the tanned display of his naked upper body. 

“You know _exactly_ what I’m referring to,” she sighed. “Mr Masrani would like to thank you for your suggestion of introducing the Indominus to a larger paddock, where she’s able to hunt for herself. I’m.. Sorry, for doubting you,” Claire said, flicking her hair back as she tried to regain some composure. “No big deal,” Owen shrugged, turning away from her and beginning to tidy a few tools on his workbench.

“Is that all you have to say on the matter?!” Claire asked incredulously. _Dammit to hell if she’d driven all the way out here for that reaction._ “Why? You want to to make it up to me or something?” Owen turned back to her, adjusting the wraps on his hand as he smiled a little devilishly. Claire laughed harshly, throwing her head back in the air. “Mr Grady - Owen - I have no idea what _that_ would involve, but I can assure you -” Claire’s sentence was cut short when Owen reached her in two strides, tipping her back slightly over the railing as he kissed her.

He pulled back in an instant, his green eyes searching her face. Claire was speechless; he’d merely pressed his lips to hers for a few seconds yet her heart rate had spiked, her breathing ragged as she stared back at him. “That’ll do it,” he murmured, and Claire slid her hands into his hair, kissing him deeply again before she even contemplated how dangerous this was: whether it was the fact they were out in the open, or the way Owen was making her feel. 

His lips trailed to her jaw, her neck; his teeth scraping a little after each kiss, the contradicting sensations flooding through her with every gentle assault. Owen was sweating after his exertion; dirty after a day at the compound, and Claire had come straight from corporate, her white dress not even creased, until now. The contrasts between them were staggering, in every way imaginable. 

His calloused hands, still in their wraps, slid under her dress as Claire gasped in surprise. “This is wrong,” she whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair. He lifted his head to gaze at her; one hand tugging her bottom lip free from her teeth. “Feels pretty right to me,” he said, in a tone that implied the ball was in her court. Claire could take it, or leave it. “We don’t even like each other much,” she groaned as he lifted her into his arms, hands still gripping her thighs. “Then I suggest we start to,” he chuckled, kissing her collarbone as he carried her inside. 


End file.
